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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610782">An old wolf learns a new trick (or three)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaz_Langston/pseuds/Kaz_Langston'>Kaz_Langston</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Eskel is the only one with a brain cell, Geralt is a jerk, Light Angst, M/M, Open Relationships, Rimming, brief mention of vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:41:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaz_Langston/pseuds/Kaz_Langston</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Much to Jaskier’s dismay, Geralt is something of a disappointment in bed. Oh, his cock is plenty big, and he's up for it as often as Jaskier is, but surely there's more to sex than just being pounded into the mattress?</p><p>Mentioned Geralt / Yen and maybe a hint of Yen / Jaskier.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An old wolf learns a new trick (or three)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by StfuStucky and DLS, who suggested "Geralt has a big dick but he really never learned how to use it since his partners are just "yeah, it feels good because it's big". Until he meets Jaskier, that is, who has standards and wants more than just hard pounding."</p><p>It's not what I planned, but it's what you're getting.</p><p>Updated 31/7 after feedback, to make Geralt a bit less of a jerk and more just an emotionally constipated idiot, and to make it more clear that they have an open relationship.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time they fuck, it's just after Geralt's killed some unspeakably hideous thing, his eyes are still black and there's viscera - honest to god <em>organs</em> - still draped across his shoulders. Jaskier, caught with his trousers well and truly down in their camp after being promised a long wait, had offered him a winning and unrepentant smile and not even had the decency to let go of his oil slicked cock as he asked the witcher, "Want to burn off some of that energy?"</p><p>Geralt did. Emphatically.</p><p>Twice.</p><p>After months of quite frankly embarrassing dancing around each other it was a relief to break the tension, for all Jaskier ached the next morning, his legs sore from being spread around muscled thighs, his abs sore from trying to buck up against a implacable grip, and, to put it indelicately, his hole sore from the extremely thorough pounding Geralt had offered.</p><p>Lying in his bedroll, Jaskier shivered in delicious reminiscence, and though he immediately regretted it as fresh aches made themselves known he couldn't help but think on all the wonderful things Geralt, with all his many years and continent-wide experience, might do with that weapon hanging between his legs.</p><p>Could the witcher hold him up as they fucked, Jaskier's legs wrapped around him, strong thighs bouncing him on that thick cock as oh-so-strong arms kept him steady? Or perhaps when he wasn't running hot on potions and poisons he'd prefer to take his time, use his mouth to take him apart, kissing every inch of his skin, maybe nibble with those too-sharp teeth. Gods, they'd not even taken the time to kiss! Jaskier shivered again, and Geralt's cold nose nudged at the back of his neck, the arm around his waist tightening. He imagined it was the witcher's way of asking "How are you, my dearest sweetheart, after being ravished to within an inch of your life?"</p><p>He rolled over, a smile leaping readily to lips still sensitive from running along rough stubble, only to find Geralt frowning at him. "Good morning, sunshine," he chirped.</p><p>The thunderous expression softened a little and Geralt gave him a quick kiss, but when Jaskier offered just the most delicate hint of tongue the witcher pulled back, muttering something about morning breath, and surged out of the bedroll to begin the tasks he'd abandoned the previous night.</p><p>Jaskier shrugged and burrowed back in the bedroll to irritated grunts as Geralt found that whatever it was that had splattered across his breastplate hadn't magically cleaned itself off in the night, and was in fact far more difficult to remove now it had congealed.</p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p>Without so much as discussing it, Geralt seemed to assume they were, if not <em>in a relationship</em> per se, at least fucking on the regular, and Jaskier wasn't going to argue with that.</p><p>Their second time was almost as spectacular as their first, with the added bonus that there was far less viscera involved. They had retired to an inn the next town over, replete with coin from the contract that had been finished so quickly, and Jaskier had demanded a bath. Not only for Geralt, who still had traces of gods only knew what under his nails - there was a reason why Jaskier had prepared his own arse - but for himself too, as the unpleasant tackiness of oil and witcher spend, of which there seemed to be an inordinate amount, was starting to chafe.</p><p>Two serving girls came up with the bath water, suitably steaming, and Jaskier was too busy moaning in anticipation to bother flirting with them; one of them gave him a very thorough once-over, while the other was too busy cowering from Geralt to pay him any heed.</p><p>The second the door clicked shut Jaskier was naked, fancy clothes strewn over the room as he went, the familiar detritus of living with a bard making Geralt roll his eyes as he too stripped off.</p><p>Jaskier managed to peel his eyes open to catch the last of Geralt's clothes, his sinful leather trousers and distressingly grey braies, sliding down muscled thighs. The witcher placed them in a neat pile, offering a pointed eyebrow as he did so, which Jaskier completely ignored in favour of ogling Geralt's scarred chest and half hard cock.</p><p>Entirely unselfconscious Geralt splashed into the tub, raising the water level enough to drown another few blissful inches of Jaskier's chest hairs.</p><p>Jaskier busied himself with scrubbing while Geralt lounged; keeping his eyes chastely on his own body he nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked up and found that intent golden gaze fixed on him.</p><p>"Did I miss a spot?" he offered cheekily, preening a little. Geralt harrumphed, and snatched the soap.</p><p>Overture apparently ignored, Jaskier dunked his head, scrubbing at his hair under the water. When he surfaced, lungs burning, he again caught Geralt's gaze, but this time the witcher wasn't just watching, or just passing the soap innocently over his skin, oh no. The rhythmic movement of his arm was far from subtle, and Jaskier's eyes widened. "You..."</p><p>Instead of stopping, Geralt tilted his head to one side, that movement that always screamed 'you have my attention', and Jaskier swallowed hard. The water slowed his movements as he reached out a hand, hesitating as he brushed it over Geralt's knee, but all the witcher did was sink deeper into the water, legs spreading in lewd invitation.</p><p>Jaskier shuffled forward awkwardly until he could feel the disturbance in the water from Geralt's steady movement, and then further again until his seeking hand caught the tip of the thick cock. A low hum broke from Geralt's throat, and Jaskier took it for the encouragement it was.</p><p>Thumbing the tip gently, he wrapped his hand around Geralt's cock, biting back a pathetic whimper as even his long fingers only just touched arounded its girth, and took up the same rhythm Geralt had been so determinedly beating out, a steady stripping that was slow on the way down and fast up. He misjudged it once or twice and splashed himself with lavender-scented water, but one thing a musician learns early on is <em>timing</em>, and it wasn't long before he was balancing that same rhythm against the slow thud of Geralt's heart and his ale-scented breaths, a heady trio that leapt into the occasional quartet when Geralt grunted at the ceiling.</p><p>Before long the hand gripping the edge of the tub had gone white knuckled, and without stopping Jaskier asked, "Want me to use my mouth? You'll like it, I'm quiet. Well, sort of quiet. Well, I'm not using any words, and isn't that the same thing, really?"</p><p>The fingers paled further. Jaskier liked to think it was mostly arousal, and only a little bit because Geralt was imagining throttling him.</p><p>"Out," Geralt growled, lower than normal, and Jaskier blinked in confusion before letting go and sitting back on his heels.</p><p>"I beg your pardon?"</p><p>Apparently that wasn't the response Geralt was after, and before Jaskier could yelp a protest he was being picked up bridal style and hauled out of the tub, dripping wet, hair hanging into his eyes.</p><p>"What are you <em>doing</em>?" he squawked, trying simultaneously to grab hold of anything he could reach - one arm around Geralt's shoulders, the other scrabbling at the hand digging into his hip - while also staying <em>absolutely still</em> to avoid any movement that might risk Geralt dropping him, because honestly he's a grown man and even witcher strength surely has limits.</p><p>Geralt set him upright next to the tub and he grabbed gratefully for the edge of it, knees unsteady. Unfortunately that put his bottom - lovely and well toned as it was, thank you very much - towards the witcher, and apparently Geralt took that as an invitation to touch, thumbing his cheeks apart with wide hands as Jaskier groaned and spread his legs further.</p><p>Still wet and relaxed from the bath, he didn't flinch when a broad digit, perhaps a thumb, nudged at his entrance. It sank inside satisfyingly easily, and Jaskier bit back another moan at the intrusion. Geralt thrust a few times, a cursory stretch, and then pulled it away to spit and replace the thumb with an intimidatingly large cock, hands wrapping around Jaskier's hips. Jaskier thought about objecting to the quite frankly insensitive pace but he probably had a little oil left in him from the last time, and he was certainly still a little <em>stretched</em> from last time even if he was a little sore with it, so instead of saying a word he shifted his hips to let the fat head slip inside.</p><p>He couldn't help the little grunt that clawed its way out of his throat as Geralt immediately rolled his hips, the swell of his cock driving deep inside, pressing him open once again, but let his head hang low between his arms as he tried to breathe through the stretch.</p><p>Geralt bucked forward a little more and Jaskier flung out a desperate hand to slap at a scarred forearm, snarling out "<em>Wait!</em>" in a tone that was supposed to be threatening but came out with a more panicked edge than he'd planned.</p><p>The witcher seemed unimpressed, draping himself across Jaskier's back as though intending to use him as a bed while he waited. "You were quick enough to take it yesterday," he grumbled.</p><p>"Yesterday I wasn't sore from taking your cock! Perhaps if you stretched me with a <em>little</em> more care before sticking your massive witcher cock in me, or had bothered <em>fetching the oil</em>, you wouldn't have to stand there bare-arsed with your prick half sheathed!"</p><p>There was a quick huff of air on his neck, something that might have been a snort of laughter, and Jaskier grit his teeth. "Right. You can move, but <em>slowly</em>, slowly, gods."</p><p>At least Geralt did as he was told that time, fucking him slow until the tension had unraveled, slick precome had eased the way and Jaskier was curling back to meet each thrust, before letting himself fuck with abandon, the rough snap of his hips prying a low grunt from the bard each time he bottomed out, in his eagerness missing Jaskier's prostate as often as he hit it.</p><p>The smack of flesh was loud in the small room, and louder still was the groan as Geralt came without warning, a fresh burn deep inside Jaskier as he held him tight, fingers biting the thin flesh at his hips hard enough to bruise.</p><p>After a minute a wide hand slid round to take hold of Jaskier's prick, stripping him efficiently with a firm grip until he spilled into Geralt's hand with a low groan.</p><p>He was still gasping when Geralt pulled back, softening cock still enough to make Jaskier whimper at the sensation.</p><p>Geralt stuck his hand in the bath water, rinsing off the come and then splashing briefly at his cock. Jaskier stretched, then pulled a face at the unpleasant feel of spend spilling down his leg. Before he could think it through too much he eased himself back into the tub, whining in protest at the chill.</p><p>"Are you going to join me?" He was disappointed when Geralt shook his head; no chance of getting a cheeky igni to heat the water.</p><p>By the time he'd thoroughly cleaned up, for a second time, Geralt was face down on the bed, snoring softly. Drying himself off, he blew out the candle and gingerly slipped in beside the witcher.</p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p>It took a while before the truth finally sank in.</p><p>Jaskier hated to say it but Geralt of Rivia - the white wolf, butcher of Blaviken, wielder of two huge swords and three if Jaskier could persuade him to let him perform that one song, friend of humanity etcetera, etcetera - was a selfish lover. Perhaps even a <em>bad</em> one, given his preference for hammering away with no concerted attempt at offering Jaskier any pleasure other than a cheeky reach-around at the end.</p><p>And then he spent a season with the Countess De Stael, and just about forgave Geralt for being a selfish jerk because unlike the Countess he'll actually sleep with him, and then - the djinn.</p><p>"Fillingless pie" and "some peace" and blood and fear and <em>pain</em>.</p><p>And then he was gloriously <em>alive</em> and then Geralt was dead and then somehow Geralt was alive and oh <em>boy</em> was he alive.</p><p>So Yennefer's a thing, now. Geralt and Yennefer. Yennefer-and-Geralt. Bleugh.</p><p>He rejoined Geralt on the road. In all honesty he just trailed after the witcher, furiously silent in his direction until Geralt turned round, eyes rolling, to finally ask what was wrong. "Thought Yennefer fixed you."</p><p>It was a shock to find his eyes suddenly filling with tears as he went to speak. He's being ridiculous. They'd never discussed exclusivity, and it wasn't as though he'd not fucked anyone else, either, though certainly not <em>right in front of Geralt</em>.</p><p>It's just - "You were dead." His chest heaved with it, the agony of losing his best friend and lover, and then the relief of having him back, and he'd not even had a hug to reassure himself that Geralt was truly alive, all on top of nearly dying himself.</p><p>"Don't be ridiculous. I was fine."</p><p>"Oh, well, I'll just <em>get over</em> thinking you were dead, shall I?" He flung his arms wide in disgust, as through presenting his anguish to the whole world. "Never mind that I thought I was dying, and then I thought that witch was going to<em> cut my cock off</em>! The witch that you then <em>fucked</em>, while I was mourning your tragic demise!"</p><p>Geralt raised an eyebrow.</p><p>"And yes, Geralt, I'm well aware I'm being hysterical!" He stomped ahead furiously, and Geralt sensibly didn't say a word.</p><p>A few hours later Geralt would take him hard and rough on all fours in a cheap inn, and he could pretend his tears were from the fucking.</p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p>Jaskier knows that it’s him Geralt will come back to, just like he has his own dalliances but it’s the witcher who has his heart; neither of them is set up for true monogamy, particularly with long winters apart.</p><p>He slightly wishes the man hadn't chosen someone quite so terrifying, but Geralt-and-Yennefer didn't seem to be going away any time soon, and so Jaskier resigned himself to dealing with the witch when they bumped into her every few months.</p><p>She was a decent sparring partner - verbal of course, neither of them would demean themselves by picking up an actual weapon - and she always managed to have the perfect drink for every occasion. He's had worse frenemies.</p><p>The year after the djinn they were suffering from lean pickings as summer approached, with annual bardic competitions still a distance away and monsters seemingly taking a holiday from their usual human-terrorising activities. When they finally found an inn that wouldn't run them out the door at a single glimpse of golden eyes, Jaskier's gratitude (and, yes, desire for a meal that wasn't ninety percent rabbit) had him leaping for the stage despite the ache in his feet.</p><p>He was half way through one of his newer compositions, still working up to the main event which was of course <em>Toss A Coin (to your impoverished bard)</em>, when he glanced over to check on Geralt, whose head was bowed as he talked to a man in the drab robes of a badly off merchant. Excellent - another contract, maybe, they can set off tomorrow and earn some well-needed coin.</p><p>But as he accepted the scattered applause for his playing and swung into the next song, a half empty flagon bounced messily at his feet and the room erupted into shouting.</p><p>Twenty minutes later they were back in the forest, Jaskier scowling furiously and Geralt irritatingly serene and apparently oblivious to the bard's frustrations.</p><p>"How can I do my job when you're determined to show the worst parts of you to all and sundry?"</p><p>Geralt didn't bother responding.</p><p>"I didn't even get any ale, never mind a decent night's sleep, all because you decided you just had to piss off some prick who shorted you ten years ago." He lifted his lute over his head and was suddenly prompted to proclaim mournfully, "I was going to have a <em>bath</em>."</p><p>A day later they stumbled across Yennefer, reclining in a sumptuous lounger overlooking the tributary of the Pontar river they'd been eyeing up for a place to wash. Both men reeked of long days travelling and tempers were getting increasingly frayed, but at the sight of the witch Jaskier's heart filled with far more gratitude than dislike.</p><p>Yennefer took one look at them, rolled her eyes, and pointed disdainfully towards a room that turned out to be a gloriously deep bath, demanding that they not come out until they smelled less like a swamp. Jaskier risked life and limb by stepping forward and reaching for her hand, intending to press grateful kisses to her flawless skin, but she snatched her hand away with murder in her eyes. Geralt cuffed him gently and shoved him towards the bath before he got them both into trouble.</p><p>Typical for Yennefer, the bath was a huge thing, wide enough that Geralt could lie across it and only touch both ends if he stretched out his arms.</p><p>Jaskier splashed in gleefully, the witcher more sedate but equally pleased, in his own quiet way.</p><p>Though he was still grumpy at his witcher's sabotage the night before, the warm water soothed his irritation, and before long he was beckoning Geralt over, dangling the hair oil in front of him. "Come on, witcher, come on," he crooned, like he'd call over a puppy.</p><p>With a roll of his eyes but no other protest, Geralt settled himself between Jaskier's legs, back against the eager half-hard cock, letting Jaskier's clever hands bury themselves in his hair.</p><p>Legs bracketing Geralt's width, Jaskier chattered away, not pausing when Geralt sagged against his chest, boneless and sleepy and trusting.</p><p>When he was done, the witcher well scrubbed and hair glowing whiter than white, Jaskier leaned over to get his own supplies, but Geralt - apparently not asleep, or perhaps just able to capture a bard mid-nap - tugged his arm back down, pulling it around his chest until Jaskier was plastered against him.</p><p>"Geralt," Jaskier said with exasperation, tugging against the strong grip, "You might be lovely and clean but-"</p><p>"A minute," Geralt said gruffly. "A minute, little bard."</p><p>"Oh," Jaskier said, relaxing against him. "Of course, darling." Geralt had his moments of softness, but they were rare, and Jaskier had learned to treasure them.</p><p>When Geralt sighed and relinquished his arm, Jaskier patted him gently. "Better?"</p><p>"Hmm." Yes, but he wouldn't admit to it.</p><p>Still, as Jaskier washed his own hair, Geralt's large hands found his back, digging so precisely into the knots that had made their unhappy home there that he couldn't help but moan.</p><p>Geralt laughed in his ear, then hushed him - "Yennefer's going to throw a fit," he threatened, then rubbed again, just to get the same loud reaction. Once Jaskier was blissfully melted against him in turn, he reached beneath the water to stroke Jaskier's cock, the bard too relaxed to even thrust into his grip, instead just clutching Geralt's thigh as he came with a sigh, spilling into the water.</p><p>Geralt nuzzled a little at his neck as Jaskier slumped back.</p><p>"That was nice," he slurred, content to drift, Geralt's arms the only thing from keeping him from slipping into the water. "Different." Gods, it was a whole different world to the usual pounding of their energetic sex life.</p><p>"Sorry," Geralt muttered, voice low.</p><p>"What, for that? My dear witcher-"</p><p>"For the tavern," Geralt interrupted. "You should have nice things. I shouldn't have been an arse."</p><p>Slightly speechless, and underprepared for unexpected emotions and what was apparently an apology handjob, Jaskier for once held his tongue, eventually turning in Geralt's arms to kiss him, very chastely.</p><p>Afterwards, fresh and clean and smelling far sweeter than he'd expected to end the day, Jaskier waved Geralt off as he headed towards some mysterious forest or haunted cave or some such that Yennefer had deemed below her, leaving the travel-weary bard behind.</p><p>It was easy to ignore the twinge of guilt at his own laziness - turning up a chance of poetic inspiration in favour of a night of luxury! Honestly, his twenty year old self would have cried to see it - when Yennefer poured him a generous mug of honey wine, and easier still at the first taste of the little savoury pancakes she nudged in his direction.</p><p>Long after the dinner plates had vanished - he wasn't sure if it had been a wave of a hand or if he'd been too caught up in Yennefer's luminous beauty to notice the appearance of staff - Jaskier had somehow stumbled onto his favourite subject, although the topic wasn't one that would appear in any song cycle. If asked, he'd blame it on the wine, although in truth it was probably just the presence of someone who knew exactly what he was talking about, but who might actually have had enough spine to deal with the issue.</p><p>"Yen. Yennefer. My dearest, darling Yennefer." She was looking increasingly apprehensive but he carried on regardless, fueled by the alcohol and the unexpected giddiness from Geralt's attention in the bath. "That man has a <em>glorious </em>cock, and he can fuck for hours - honestly, his <em>stamina</em>! - but as much as it wounds me to ask, do you ever get bored of it? The, ah..." He waved vaguely.</p><p>"The relentless pounding?"</p><p>"Well. Yes."</p><p>Yennefer inspected her nails absently, frowning at some imagined imperfection before looking back at Jaskier, purple eyes as striking as ever and not a hair out of place, while Jaskier could feel himself getting more bedraggled with every tart sip of wine. "We only fucked three times. If I'd wanted any more from that disastrous relationship, I'd have taken him in hand.</p><p>Jaskier deflated, and the wine glass sagged in his grip. At Yennefer's pointed look he obligingly righted it, and removed the risk of any remaining dregs upending themselves on the floor of the mansion she was presently appropriating by downing it in a single too-large gulp. When he placed it back on the table with an overzealous thud, she rolled her eyes and reached out a perfectly manicured hand to top it up.</p><p>Much later, when he'd sunk to his knees on the rug by her feet, resting his head on her silk-clad thigh as she carded a hand through his hair, he looked up at her mournfully, pleading eyes heavy with the late hour. "What do I <em>do</em>, Yen? He's so good and I think I love him, even though I know he sometimes acts like a <em>complete</em> arse and he doesn't even kiss me, but the sex, Yen, the <em>sex</em>! I can't give up good sex, not even for Geralt."</p><p>She tilted her head to one side, ran her finger along Jaskier's mournful lower lip to test its plumpness, ripe and sweet as fresh cherries, and tapped it twice. "Don't be pathetic, bard." He whined in protest, but she frowned and he silenced himself. "Don't let him treat you like shit. In bed, or out of it." She paused for a moment then let out a sound that, were it to come from anyone else, might be described as a snort. "I thought you were the poet!"</p><p>Jaskier snorted too, and they collapsed in paroxysms of drunken laughter.</p><p>The sound caught Geralt's attention as he returned from his late night quest, but not wanting to disturb what might be a fragile truce he didn't call out, instead sliding the front door closed in silence.</p><p>When they settled Yennefer had curled up like a cat, leaning on the arm of the chair to bring her head closer to Jaskier's ear, tugging softly at his hair to pull him back to meet her gaze. "Are they all like that?"</p><p>He shivered at the sting, and the feel of her breath over his ear, then pulled his mind back to the question. "Mm?"</p><p>"Witchers," she drawled. "Are they all the same in bed, just..." She made a crude gesture, made elegant by her slim fingers, and gave Jaskier an expectant look.</p><p>"How am I supposed to know?!"</p><p>Yen gave him a flat look. "You've met some of the others, haven't you?"</p><p>"Briefly, but not enough to... Y'know."</p><p>"See if they fuck like you're a cheap whore?"</p><p>"Oh, gods, that is what he does, isn't it!" Jaskier covered his face with his hands and groaned.</p><p>Silent in the doorway, face burning, Geralt scowled furiously and turned away. He'd go give Roach a good brush, at least she wouldn't talk about him behind his back.</p><p>Behind him, Jaskier gulped down more wine. "I," the poet proclaimed triumphantly to the room, spreading his arms for his great announcement, "Am the cheapest of whores; I don't charge a penny and I'll even sing for your supper before you pound me into the mattress."</p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p>They took their leave late the next morning, with the sun well clear of the horizon and heat rising in a haze from the road. Yennefer deigned to put in only the briefest of appearances while Jaskier stuck his head in an ice cold bucket of water, declining her offer to heat it. Sopping wet, he eschewed doublet and chemise, letting the sun kiss his shoulders where freckles had already begun their annual congregation.</p><p>Jaskier's aching head meant he was for once grateful for Geralt's silence, even if the punishing pace the witcher set meant he had to vomit behind a bush before they were two miles out of town.</p><p>By mid afternoon his head had cleared enough for an attempt at playing his lute, though his fingers were a little too clumsy and numb for much more than strumming so he interspersed his playing with questions about the hunt.</p><p>Eventually Geralt told him to <em>knock it off, Jaskier</em>, with an edge that said he was serious.</p><p>"The playing, or the questions?" It's always good to get clarity on these things, he finds.</p><p>"Either. Both. I don't care, just be quiet!"</p><p>Jaskier sulked into silence and didn't say another word until they made camp.</p><p>When Geralt lay his bedroll next to Jaskier's in an attempt at peacemaking, the bard moved his pointedly to the other side of the fire. Over the crackle of dry branches he said primly, "I don't fuck grumpy witchers."</p><p>Geralt scowled at him and tried to enjoy the silence.</p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p>A few days and a couple of rousing, coin-heavy performances later they'd crossed the border, and a familiar voice heralded them as they returned to their inn.</p><p>"Geralt! Well met, brother, there's a nest of bruxae up in the hills that I don't fancy tackling alone." Eskel, handsome as ever in his red armour and broad shoulders, strode towards them across the courtyard, scarred face as open and delighted as a witcher's face ever got outside of Kaer Morhen.</p><p>Geralt took one look at Eskel and another at Jaskier, then curled a lip and stalked away muttering something about having to tend to Roach.</p><p>Pulling up short Eskel looked a little put out at the dismissal, and said helplessly to Jaskier, "I've not seen him since spring, what did I do?"</p><p>"Don't mind him," Jaskier said cheerfully, "He's had a face like a smacked arse since we left Yennefer back in Temeria, I've barely got a word out of him, and no pleasant ones." He tucked a hand into the crook of Eskel's elbow and turned him towards the tavern. "Would you allow me the pleasure of buying you a drink, Sir Witcher?"</p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p>Many hours later the three of them were well fed on Jaskier's coin. Geralt's mood seemed to have cleared a little, though he was still even more taciturn than usual, and their thirsts had been sated with enough fresh ale that Jaskier swayed when he went outside to piss.</p><p>On his return there was an empty seat where Geralt had sat. "Early night," Eskel offered.</p><p>Jaskier managed to stop his face from crumpling, but something must have shown because Eskel's amber eyes softened a little and he patted the seat beside him. "Come sit with me, I'll show you some sleight of hand. You can amuse yourself next time Geralt's determined to mess about with his cards."</p><p>Ever the opportunist, Jaskier promptly helped himself to Eskel's lap, slinging an arm round broad shoulders, but when he looked at Eskel there was nothing but panic on the witcher's face, both hands raised to make it very clear he <em>was not touching</em>.</p><p>"How drunk are you, bard? I'm not Geralt..."</p><p>"I know you're not Geralt, silly," and Jaskier tapped him on the tip of that cute, oft-broken nose. "That's sort of the point."</p><p>"Oh." There was a beat of silence and then, "Will he mind?"</p><p>"<em>I</em> don't mind, and I'm the one that's in your lap." He relented at Eskel's expression. "He won't mind. And if he does I'll remind him we never agreed any sort of exclusivity-" <em>exclusivity</em> had too many sibilants for him to manage without slurring, but he attempted it heroically, "-and that he fucked Yennefer in front of me and I've still not had an apology, plus he's still sulking that we left her behind three towns back." With a bright smile he added, as if it would help, "If brothers can't share a bard what can they share?"</p><p>There was still an adorable uncertainty on Eskel's handsome face, and Jaskier pressed a kiss at the corner of his downturned lips, whispering against them, "I'm drunk, but not that drunk, and more than willing, darling."</p><p>"He's going to kill me, you know that?" Amused and indulgent, Eskel shook his head but didn't dislodge Jaskier from his perch, instead resting a hand on his silk-clad leg a touch too high to be decent.</p><p>Jaskier wriggled, self satisfied and comfortably cradled on muscled thighs. "If he tries, I shall write the most awful things about him in the catchiest tune I can imagine, and he'll have to live with people singing it on every corner for the rest of his days."</p><p>Eskel drew him closer, until Jaskier's ear was within range, and he mouthed at the soft flesh before biting at it, a high sharp note of pain against the warmth of his breath.</p><p>Jaskier shivered, and turned to him with a grin that promised all sorts of filthy things. "Oh I think we'll get on <em>very</em> well without him."</p><p>The hand on his thigh slid near-imperceptibly higher.</p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p>Tumbling onto the bed, Jaskier couldn't help his fit of giggles as Eskel descended on him, squealing afresh as rough stubble caught the delicate flesh of his belly, strong hands treating the silk of his chemise with the respect it deserved as he slid the fabric up, kissing and biting each fresh inch of skin as he went. By the time he reached his chest Jaskier's cock was swelling against his breeches, his breath reduced to harsh pants, and the sharp bite Eskel placed on one nipple earned him a heartfelt cry.</p><p>"Please," he gasped out, not even knowing what he was asking for, "Please, Eskel, please, please-"</p><p>Eskel abandoned his exploration and moved instead to Jaskier's neck, gentle kisses becoming less gentle as the bard whined and squirmed under him, strong thighs holding him steady on the bed to stop him rutting as he so dearly wanted.</p><p>When he reached up to try and pull the witcher closer, Eskel grabbed for the seeking hands and pressed them back into the pillow above Jaskier's head, twining their fingers together as Jaskier whined and squirmed against him only to fall panting back against the sheets, eyes blown wide.</p><p>Jaskier couldn't help the thrill that shot through him at not being able to move, not being able to get out of the implacable restriction at hands and hips, but when he looked up in consternation Eskel immediately softened his grip, and Jaskier shook his head. "Just - checking. It's good, it's good, <em>fuck</em>, Eskel, <em>please</em>-"</p><p>Chemise rucked up to his armpits, still in his breeches and boots, Jaskier could almost laugh at the desperate picture he must make, but he was too busy thinking about the ache of his untouched cock to be at all embarrassed.</p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p>Afterwards, Jaskier lay panting at the ceiling, body aching in all sorts of unexpected and delicious ways. "So the stamina's a witcher thing but the selfishness isn't. Good to know."</p><p>Beside him, Eskel didn't move, but his sudden stillness spoke volumes. "You thought I'd be selfish in bed? Wait - <em>Geralt's</em> selfish in bed?"</p><p>Suddenly a little ashamed, Jaskier looked away. "Not selfish, just... well. Alright, selfish, but I'm sure he just doesn't know better."</p><p>"His partners always sound happy enough, from what I hear."</p><p>Jaskier sighed. "I'm sure they are, dearest Eskel. His cock is quite as shapely as yours, and with a greater girth; for an occasional fuck he would be delightful. But no one's taught him that he can do more with it than just take advantage of its size."</p><p>A few strangled noises prompted Jaskier to stare back at his bedmate, and Eskel finally managed to stutter out, "Did I? Do more than just - fuck? And his is <em>barely</em> thicker than mine!"</p><p>Of course they've compared pricks. "Melitele save me from fragile men," Jaskier complained to the room at large, before curling himself determinedly around Eskel's chest, throwing his leg over wide thighs. "You were quite wonderful. I couldn't dream of a more attentive lover."</p><p>Mollified, Eskel pulled him close, burying his nose in sweat-soaked hair. "I'd hate to think Geralt was representing witchers poorly."</p><p>Jaskier hummed and bit at his chest, before kissing away the mark. "You've certainly proven witchers can be quite the force in the bedroom. I'm sure it'll just take a little guidance." He truly didn't look forward to that conversation, and instead of thinking on it too long nudged Eskel's hand back between his legs. "You know, Geralt always mentioned you were good with the witcher signs, and I was just thinking..."</p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p>The next morning Jaskier was up with the dawn, a grubby feeling of not entirely-misplaced guilt building in his gut. After a strip wash in cold water, Eskel barely stirring in the bed behind him, he set out for the market and returned with a bag of pastries, somehow managing to resist stealing a bite.</p><p>As he'd predicted, Geralt was already in the stable getting Roach ready for the day. The witcher didn't turn around though Jaskier had no doubt that he'd been heard.</p><p>Jaskier rustled the bag hopefully in Geralt's direction. "Pastries, Geralt. Honey cakes, your favourite."</p><p>He was summarily ignored. When Geralt left the stable for the locker room where Roach's tack was safely stored, Jaskier trailed after him, pastries still in hand. "I'm sure you know I slept with Eskel last night." He didn't get a response, but the stiffness in those broad shoulders told him he was right. "Well, he helped me realise some things. Geralt. Geralt, are you listening? I said I slept with Eskel last night."</p><p>"You'd hardly be the worst thing he'd fucked." Geralt didn't bother looking at him as he yanked the tack from the cubbyhole and strode back to the stable.</p><p>Jaskier gaped a little, one hand on his hip as he held the bag away from his side, ever-conscious of his clothes and the risk of grease stains. "I honestly don't know how to take that."</p><p>A voice over his shoulder added, "Nor do I." With a wince Jaskier turned to find a very unruffled Eskel, scarred face freshly washed and deceptively affable.</p><p>Scowling, Geralt turned to face the pair of them, a hint of colour high on his cheeks. "I won't dictate what you do in bed. Or who."</p><p>Deciding that was aimed at him, not at Eskel, Jaskier had the decency to look a bit guilty. "I just wanted to... see something. If the way we fuck was a Geralt thing or a witcher thing."</p><p>"Well? Did he fuck you how you wanted?" The tone was downright nasty, and Jaskier couldn't help but cringe.</p><p>Eskel's voice cut in before he could respond. "Geralt. That's enough."</p><p>The dark haired witcher looked sorrowful as he stared between them, and Jaskier sighed, going to him and pressing a chaste kiss to his unblemished cheek. "I'm sorry, Eskel. I didn't mean you to get caught between us."</p><p>That golden gaze, so familiar and yet not, flicked from him and then up to Geralt. Voice lifted just enough to carry Eskel said, "I had a lovely night. I'm just sorry you thought you had to come to me to be <em>treated right</em>."</p><p>Roach's tack hit the ground with none of the respect it deserved, and Geralt was striding towards them with murder in his eyes.</p><p>Yelping and flinching back, Jaskier planted himself in his path, chin jutting defiantly. "Don't you <em>dare</em>, Geralt of Rivia!"</p><p>Geralt scowled mulishly over his shoulder at Eskel, who folded his arms. "Yeah, Geralt. You don't get to be mad just because you were doing a bad enough job your pet bard felt he had to come to me for a decent fuck."</p><p>With a low snarl Geralt shoved Jaskier out of his way and lunged forward, arm drawn back for a punch, a wide swing that Eskel blocked with ease despite its speed.</p><p>Flung aside, Jaskier bounced inelegantly off the wall of the inn, pastry bag hitting the floor with a sad thud. After checking his elbow for any rips - he'd barely had this doublet a season, if there's a hole in it there will be absolute <em>hell</em> to pay - he pushed himself away from the wall, setting his jaw against the pain in his shoulder.</p><p>In the courtyard, scrapping like boys, the two witchers wrestled in near silence bar the odd grunt. With a deep breath Jaskier bullied his way between them, and as one then the other realised their bard was at risk of being crushed by their fight they both backed off, breathing heavily.</p><p>Hands on hips Jaskier chastised them. "Geralt, if you ever push me like that again I swear I will leave you, and suggest to all the first year students that you're in desperate need of a new barker however much you protest. Eskel, you know better than to taunt him." He surveyed the pair as they all but hung their heads, six-foot-and-change of scolded schoolboys. "Geralt. What do you say to Eskel?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"What do you say to Eskel. For fighting."</p><p>It was bitten out as though it hurt to say. "Sorry."</p><p>"Eskel, what do you have to say to Geralt?"</p><p>That one took a little more work, but eventually he too grated out an apology.</p><p>"Good. Now what do both of you say to me, for pushing me and making a ruckus too early in the morning." He added, mournfully, "And for making me drop breakfast."</p><p>"Sorry, Jaskier." Eskel went first, and shot a triumphant look at Geralt at having got in there early.</p><p>The white haired witcher stared at him obstinately. "I don't want to apologise to you."</p><p>Jaskier blinked. "Why not?"</p><p>Pale cheeks coloured again, and Geralt's gaze fixed somewhere over his left shoulder as he shrugged. Jaskier sighed and drooped. "Eskel, can you give us a minute?"</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>Geralt snarled at the insinuation in Eskel's tone, and the dark haired witcher had the decency to look shamefaced before he headed back inside.</p><p>"Geralt. Sit with me."</p><p>He retrieved the bag of sweetcakes, fortunately still sealed with the shopkeeper's twist, and the two of them sat against the wall of the courtyard, a handful of straw blowing in eddies around around their feet. Unfolding the bag Jaskier took out a slightly squished pastry and offered the rest of the bag to Geralt, who picked another out with an unexpectedly delicate hand.</p><p>They ate in silence, and when Geralt was licking honey from his fingers under Jaskier's hungry eyes the bard finally spoke. "What's going on?"</p><p>Geralt froze, and let his hands fall into his lap as he took a deep breath. "You don't like how I fuck. You think I'm <em>bad</em> at fucking. Yennefer knows and now Eskel knows and you've probably written it in a fucking<em> song</em>."</p><p>Oh, bollocks.</p><p>Jaskier let his head fall back against the solid stone wall, staring at the bright blue of the early morning sky, with its wispy clouds threatening a blazing hot day.</p><p>"You heard me and Yen."</p><p>Geralt grunted a response.</p><p>"Well. I'll deal with this in the order that's easiest. I had not, have not, <em>will never</em> write a song about you being bad in bed, or so much as alluding to it. That would be an astonishingly shitty thing to do, and even I have my limits." After a second he added, "Valdo Marx excluded." Because honestly, if anyone was well suited to having his sexual prowess destroyed in song, it was Valdo fucking Marx.</p><p>"I talked to Yen because I thought she might have discussed it with you and had a solution. And maybe a tiny bit because I'm a relentless gossip; I'm like a rag soaking up spilt ale." He mimed a rag wiping along a surface, then looked at his hands in consternation. "Or more like a plant, I suppose, using it for fuel so I bloom." A little finger wiggle, like vines crawling up a wall.</p><p>Geralt's face suggested he get the fuck on with it.</p><p>"Perhaps my metaphors need work. <em>Anyway</em>. I fucked Eskel because I wanted to, because I thought I might find out if all witchers fucked like you do, and because you've been an arse all week and I thought it would be fun."</p><p>Geralt's stony expression didn't change.</p><p>"I'm not going to apologise for it, because we haven't had any discussion about being exclusive, but I am sorry I hurt you."</p><p>He waited patiently for a response, but when Geralt finally spoke Jaskier's heart ached at the insecurity in it. "You really think I'm bad in bed?"</p><p>Jaskier sighed. "Only a little." Where their arms touched Geralt was unnaturally still, even for a witcher, and Jaskier huddled closer despite the heat of the rising sun. "Just - we can take our time, you know? There's so much more to sex than just shoving your cock in and going to town."</p><p>"Not just treating you like a <em>cheap whore</em>?"</p><p>Jaskier winced. He had used those words, hadn't he? They hurt, in Geralt's low voice, and he regretted ever saying them.</p><p>"I'm sorry." It also wasn't a no.</p><p>"I'll do better."</p><p>Jaskier nodded thoughtfully. "While I'm laying everything bare, I may as well add - no, don't look like that, it's not so bad, don't grind your teeth it always gives you an awful headache and you're grumpier than usual - I <em>may as well add</em>, when we're three days on the road I'd appreciate being given a little warning if you've got bad history in a town so we can keep our heads down. I've told you often enough if I'm not welcome somewhere, it'd be nice to know the same in return. And if you can, wait until I've had a drink and a wash before you start a fight?"</p><p>"You have got bad history in an awful lot of places. I suppose I could warn you of mine in return." Jaskier didn't rise to the bait, but at least he'd been forgiven.</p><p>Geralt took another honey cake, munching quite contentedly, and then when Jaskier had taken a mouthful himself he added, "So how did you find Eskel's cock then?"</p><p>Jaskier nearly choked.</p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p>Eskel and Geralt, neither witcher apparently harbouring any ill will towards the other, went to tackle the bruxae, Jaskier being told firmly to stay at the inn with a harsh warning about how the bruxae wouldn't hesitate to tear him apart. When the pair returned two days later Geralt was even more taciturn than usual, and after a bath he vanished into nothing, leaving Jaskier with only Eskel for company.</p><p>When he offered to be <em>company</em> for the witcher, Eskel turned him down with a rueful smile. "I think it's best if I refrain from testing Geralt further." Jaskier reluctantly agreed, but that didn't mean he had to like it.</p><p>The click of the door closing woke the bard in the early hours of the morning. The flickering of the single candle illuminated Geralt, pale faced even compared to his usual complexion, and the bard sat up with a lurch of worry.</p><p>Geralt hushed him and nudged him over to lay beside him, coaxing gently until Jaskier obediently rolled on his side and let Geralt tuck an arm around his waist.</p><p>As he drifted off to sleep, he thought absently that Geralt smelt of oil and sweat and perfumes, and other filthier things besides, but he didn't usually come back from a brothel looking quite so dumbfounded.</p><p>*-*-*-*-*</p><p>When they split from Eskel a day later it was in good spirits, though not-quite-subtly-enough Eskel gave Geralt a meaningful look behind Jaskier's back. Jaskier didn't know what that look meant, but Geralt was being... odd.</p><p>He could feel the weight of the witcher's golden gaze, a heavy thing that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, though not unpleasantly. When it became too much and he looked back, Geralt would meet his eyes square on, then let his gaze wander down the bard's body, lingering on his lips, his hands, his arse. Purposeful. Assessing. <em>Hungry</em>. If Geralt had been a stranger in a tavern he'd have known he wouldn't be paying for a bed that night, and if Jaskier had been a sweet little rabbit he'd have been quaking in his boots for fear of ending up in a stew; as it was he just shivered a little and turned away, fingers tapping a nervous tune on his leg.</p><p>Without Jaskier having to ask they settled at another inn that night, Geralt paying for a room - a <em>nice</em> one - and ordering food for them both without so much as hinting that Jaskier would perform. Jaskier scurried upstairs to drop his belongings in their room, and when Geralt followed he half expected to be shoved into the mattress without a word. Not that he'd mind! But instead, Geralt just watched him with that weighted gaze and trailed him back downstairs. When they slumped on a bench, he sat close enough to jostle elbows, and as the food arrived a hand settled lightly on his leg, cool against his skin.</p><p>Their meal was plain but good, the meat well seasoned, but Jaskier could barely keep his mind on it. Instead, every sense was focussed on the few scant inches above his knee where Geralt's hand, scarred and strong, splayed across the rich silk.</p><p>When he pushed the dregs of his stew towards the witcher, the hand turned into a single finger, trailing up the inner seam of his breeches, and he had to bite back a whimper. Beside him he felt, rather than heard, Geralt's huff of laughter.</p><p>He wouldn't ask. He wouldn't be such a green youth that he could get his head turned by a pair of lusty golden eyes and a bit of fondling.</p><p>Except he'd barely been touched and he was already <em>dizzy</em> with it.</p><p>When Geralt ordered a second ale, the curl of his hand nudging Jaskier's legs just slightly apart at the midpoint of his thigh, Jaskier almost snarled his impatience. Geralt didn't react, but when he sipped his ale Jaskier caught a hint of a smile and hissed in frustration. "You're doing this deliberately, you prick."</p><p>Geralt just raised a brow.</p><p>By the time they finally - fucking <em>finally</em> - got upstairs, Jaskier's cock had been half hard for hours.</p><p>He threw himself on the mattress. "You, Geralt of Rivia, have been taunting me and I'm not having it, you hear me?" His doublet flew across the room and missed the chair. "Spending all day making eyes at me -" One boot hit the floor "- like I'm some tasty little morsel -" the other "- <em>licking your lips</em> when you thought I wasn't watching - oh yes, don't think I didn't see -" chemise on top of the boots, and then he paused both his ranting and his undressing. "What are you doing?"</p><p>Geralt was, quite clearly, watching. Arms folded, chin dipped and gaze heated. "I'm enjoying the show, bard."</p><p>He'll fucking charge him, if he's just going to stand there and watch. "Get over here, Geralt, I'm not going to fuck myself however much people might tell me to do it."</p><p>Geralt practically sauntered across the room, slow and easy and somehow predatory, an easy feline - lupine - sharpness to every line of him. When he reached the bed he reached out a hand and trailed one calloused finger down Jaskier's cheek, down his jaw, and over his collarbone to come to rest at his nipple, small and pink and hard.</p><p>"Did you know," he said conversationally, and conversationally was never something Jaskier had thought to describe Geralt's words before, wasn't that a turn up for the books along with everything else the day had thrown at him, "Eskel told me a few things about you."</p><p>"Did he-ahh!" Jaskier yelped as that gentle finger turned on him, teaming up with a broad thumb to tweak his nipple just the right side of too hard.</p><p>"He did," Geralt confirmed.</p><p>"Mouthy fucking witchers," Jaskier grumbled breathlessly, then threw his head back as Geralt pinched the other nipple.</p><p>"Hmm."</p><p>Mouthy indeed, and Geralt put his to good use, biting across Jaskier's pecs and sucking at his firm nipples, playing with the other until the bard was slumped on the mattress groaning. Geralt seemed to have taken to heart his plea to take his time, and Eskel, the traitorous swine, had definitely mentioned his sensitivity.</p><p>There was a brief pause as Geralt reared back to inspect his handiwork, a patchwork of pink and bruise-blue bites, and Jaskier took the opportunity to divest himself of his breeches and shorts, flinging those across the room with enthusiasm after digging the oil from one pocket.</p><p>He threw himself on his front and spread his legs, uncorking the bottle and awkwardly going to pour some on his hand, when the hand that had been driving him insane all evening appeared in front of him and plucked it from his grip.</p><p>"Hey!" Don't go undoing all that good work by going in with just spit, Jaskier thought sourly.</p><p>"I've got it," Geralt muttered into the skin of his spine, and Jaskier mentally shrugged. Maybe Eskel had told him about taking his time there too. At least it seemed his witcher, bless him, was learning.</p><p>He pillowed his head on his arms, waving a magnanimous hand.</p><p>One hand on his arse, and then-</p><p>"<em>Geralt</em>!"</p><p>Oh, Geralt was <em>learning </em>learning.</p><p>He's not heard his voice hit that note in quite a few years.</p><p>A soft laugh against his skin, and the tongue pressed against him pulled away. "Yes, bard?"</p><p>"You - I - <em>fuck</em>!"</p><p>"In a little while, if you're patient."</p><p>The next sound was a wet slurp, and Jaskier whimpered and went positively cross eyed.</p><p>When he was writhing against the bed, rutting his cock into the mattress and then bucking back into the unique pleasure of having a strong tongue fucking into his hole and stretching him with gentle insistence, Geralt finally pulled back, barely breathing hard.</p><p>As Jaskier whined into his arms the witcher wiped his chin, spat in the wash basin, and was back on the bed before Jaskier had even remembered how to talk.</p><p>He looked round, dazed, and grabbed out with a shaking hand to pull him close and crush their mouths together.</p><p>When he could string more than two words together, he pulled away. "This is different."</p><p>Geralt had the decency to look embarrassed. "Eskel talked." He winced. "A lot."</p><p>"What, did he give you lessons as well?" And it's not that that would be unwelcome, except that Jaskier would be rather put out at not being included in the lessons because two witchers in his bed at once, dear gods yes.</p><p>"No. I - the brothel." Geralt didn't make eye contact.</p><p>"You. Went to a brothel. And asked for <em>lessons</em>."</p><p>"<em>One</em> lesson," he said emphatically, before preening a little. "She said I was a quick learner."</p><p>"Ooh, you..." Jaskier didn't know whether to kiss him or strangle him. He settled for kissing on the grounds that strangulation is generally considered rude, at least without prior agreement from all parties.</p><p>Somehow he managed to bear the witcher down to the bed, but after he was breathless with kisses Geralt rolled them over and slipped a hand down between them to wrap it around Jaskier's cock.</p><p>"Fuck, yes," Jaskier hissed, bucking into the grip, just the right squeeze to it because if nothing else Geralt's had plenty of experience in exactly which buttons to press when it comes to jerking him off.</p><p>Geralt's other hand was free to reach over Jaskier's squirming hips, slide down the crease and nudge at the slick hole, and at some point he'd managed to get the oil too because his thick finger had never once gone in that easily. Jaskier couldn't help a groan, hitching his leg up to give Geralt more access, biting at the witcher's lip when he looked unbearably smug.</p><p>Eventually, gasping and bright red and almost on the edge, Jaskier dragged Geralt's hand off his hip. "Not that this isn't all very lovely, but if you don't get your cock in me in the next, oh, I don't know, <em>ten seconds</em> I'm going to go find Eskel and-"</p><p>With a snarl Geralt threw Jaskier on his front, hard enough that he bounced just a little, the bard squealing in delight as a hand splayed on his back to hold him still, a thick cock nudged at his entrance, and then with an easy thrust Geralt was inside.</p><p>"Fucking yes, gods, I'm so fucking ready for this," Jaskier cursed into the pillow, biting into its softness as he bucked back, half-drowning the thin whines dragged from him by each roll of Geralt's hips as he sank deeper until finally bottoming out accompanied by Jaskier's filthy moan.</p><p>Strong hands pulled at Jaskier's hips until he was positioned exactly where the witcher wanted him, chest low to the bed and arse wantonly high, the perfect height for Geralt to fuck him with aching slowness, every movement dragging his cock over Jaskier's prostate until the bard was whimpering and quivering under his roaming hands, a meaningless litany tumbling from slack lips.</p><p>Geralt fisted a hand in the bard's hair, tugging him back until he could meet the drunken blue gaze, the sting of the grip making his moan turn into a strangled whimper. "Geralt," he said breathlessly, licking his lips where his panting had dried them out, "Geralt please-"</p><p>"Please what, bard?" He slowed his movements, slower and slower still until he was barely moving at all, the head of his cock raking unerringly over that sweet spot inside until Jaskier was slack jawed and drooling.</p><p>"Pl- uuhhh, uh, uh, uh-"</p><p>Geralt took no pity on him, pulling harder at his hair until his body was bowed back and his eyes were watering, though the helpless sounds of pleasure only rose and rose. Eventually he relented and, gasping, Jaskier took the chance to slide a hand down to grab his own cock.</p><p>"None of that, now," Geralt rumbled, pulling his hand away and pressing it into the sheets, catching the other when it too scrabbled free. Jaskier sobbed wordlessly into the pillow.</p><p>"Please, Geralt, I need to come, please, <em>please</em>!"</p><p>Curling over Jaskier's bowed back, Geralt licked and bit at strong shoulders where they quivered with the strain of his arms pulling against Geralt's implacable grip. Jaskier bucked and whined and sobbed and only when he finally went limp did Geralt let one wrist go to ease his hand under Jaskier's slumped hips and wrap his hand around the thickly weeping cock.</p><p>It barely took a touch before Jaskier was coming across the sheets, howling wordlessly and clenching in endless waves around Geralt's cock.</p><p>When he surfaced, he was clean and warm, Geralt's arm slung across his wrung out body.</p><p>"I can't believe I've gone years without that," he whispered hoarsely, to Geralt's snort of amusement. "I'm never letting you out of this bed."</p><p>"Don't want dinner?"</p><p>"I don't think I can lift my arms," Jaskier whimpered.</p><p>"Hmm."</p><p>"You're a little smug, admit it."</p><p>Geralt didn't make a sound but his eyes rolled across to stare at Jaskier across the pillow. He did look <em>extraordinarily</em> smug, which for Geralt meant a crook to his lips and a faint arch of one brow.</p><p>Huffing a little, Jaskier stared back at the ceiling. "Well deserved, I'd say. Very fucking well deserved." Taking his life in his hands he added, "Gave Eskel a run for his money."</p><p>He shrieked as Geralt's clever hands found all his ticklish spots, crying "Mercy!" until the witcher let him be.</p><p>They lay in silence, broken by Jaskier's panting and then Geralt's thoughtful words.</p><p>"It felt different. When you came."<br/>
Jaskier laughed, still half breathless. "You've been tormenting me for <em>hours</em>, I've not come that hard in <em>years</em>."</p><p>"It was... better?"</p><p>"Geralt. If you fuck me like that every time, I will never fuck another man."</p><p>"Not even Eskel?"</p><p>Jaskier paused. "It would be a shame, but yes. If you wanted."</p><p>"Hmm."</p><p>After a while, Geralt added, "Seems a shame to commit after just one night with Eskel, and one good night with me. A more - <em>direct</em> comparison might settle your mind..."</p><p>"Oh, my dear witcher, <em>yes</em>."</p>
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